Paying the Piper
by LisaT
Summary: Fifteen years after Mulgrews of Waterloo Road, Christine finds that alcohol is not done with her yet. Ch 2: Kevin and Dynasty's eldest daughter suspects there's something wrong... Future fic, fluff, angst. Tom/Christine, Connor/Imogen, Kevin/Dynasty.
1. Chapter 1

_The idea came for this ages ago. I want sap, but sap with bite, and—as ever—Christine and company are great for that. It's presented as WiP because that's potentially what it is if people really like it, but this can stand alone. Also, note that it takes place in an AU set some fifteen-plus years after _Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Autumn Term_. This is deliberate as I didn't want to give away any plot points relating to _Spring Term_ or _Summer Term_ (yes, I'm very likely to make it a trilogy). As I say, it could be developed into more, but only if the level of interest warrants it—and possibly not for a while as I should finish _Spring Term_ first at the very least!_

_**mega-sap/angst/sugar overload alert!**_

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><p><strong>PAYING THE PIPER<strong>

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><p>Christine's heart was heavy as she pushed open the front door of the home she'd shared with Tom for over fifteen years. The old door slammed shut as it always did and her husband shot out of the kitchen to welcome her.<p>

'You took a while,' he commented as he relieved her of her coat and the bag bulging with papers relating to school and school affairs. 'I was starting to worry.'

She ignored that, choosing instead to kiss him and ask about the kids.

He grinned. 'It's a madhouse, Waterloo Road's a walk in the park in comparison to this place. Remind me again why we thought this grandkid-sitting lark was a good plan?'

She smiled. 'You don't fool me, you'd complain even more if it was just us. You'd get bored, don't pretend you wouldn't!'

'Come and have a drink,' he said, taking her arm and guiding her into the kitchen. 'Bubbly?'

It was years since the question had made her twitch, but now it did. Something must have shown in her expression, because Tom added, 'It's just Shloer, love.'

'I know.' It was an effort to keep the smile from wavering. 'Sure, bring it on. It's been a long day, this has been keeping me going.' When he handed her the glass she cradled it automatically, cherishing it. 'When are the others due?'

Tom placed a small bowl of nuts on the table before sitting down, armed with his own glass. 'Connor finished filming _Teetotaller Chef_ at six, he said, but Imogen won't be done until after seven so he'll collect her before coming on. Last minute rehearsals, apparently.' He took a sip. 'What about Dynasty and Kevin?'

Christine's smile turned wry. 'I don't know about Kevin, but my deputy was putting the fear of herself into most of Year 10 when I left. Don't ask; something to do with a fracas in Sue Lowsley's lesson. You know,' she continued with another sip, 'Sue's been teaching longer than Dynasty and she _still_ struggles to keep the kids in order. I can only justify keeping her because somehow she manages to pull the results out of the bag—right at the last possible moment.'

'Sue always did have nine lives,' Tom commented, rising from his seat. 'Where are those brats?' He went to the door to bellow, 'Kids! Nan's home!'

A rumble, a series of thumps, and a cacophony of yells indicated that the Charles-Mulgrew-Chalk horde was on the move.

'Brace yourself,' Tom hissed. 'They've been wound up all afternoon, must be all being together again.'

'Well, if your granddaughter can't keep them under control—'

'_My_ granddaughter? It's your grandkids and adopted grandkids that are the hell-raisers!'

Christine was still gasping in pretend outrage when she was nearly knocked off her chair by her grandson, a slight almost-six year old with his mother's grey-green eyes and Connor's mannerisms.

'You're late,' he said reproachfully as he drew back after a tight squeeze. 'Grandad said you'd be home at six an' it's supposed to be his _birfday_.'

'I'm here now,' Christine pointed out, evading the issue of her lateness. 'Hi, Iz. You made it up OK?'

Tom's eldest granddaughter grinned as she entered, accompanied by a pair of tweenage girls. 'Yeah, although Dad fussed liked you wouldn't believe. Mum said she's sorry she couldn't come, but Mik's got her GCSEs on and went into a meltdown when it was suggested.'

'Mik's Chlo all over again,' Tom agreed as he swung the youngest of the children into his arms. 'Not like your Auntie Mika at all.'

'I want down!' the little girl protested with an indignant shake of her curly blonde head. 'Down, Granda! I'm not a baby!' She thrashed wildly in Tom's arms and Christine found that all at once the stresses and anxieties and fears of the day had slipped away.

'You'd better put her down before—ah, too late.' She switched on her headmistress voice. 'Imogen Chalk, what have you been told about kicking, young lady?'

The full lower lip pouted. 'Not to kick.'

'So what do you say?'

The small face turned scarlet. Everyone had learned very quickly that Kevin and Dynasty's younger daughter had a personality quite at odds with her tiny size—and a temper to match.

'Sorry.' It was a barely audible mumble.

Tom crouched down. 'What was that? You'll have to speak up, my ears don't work as well as yours.'

''M _sorry_!' Imogen shrieked at the top of healthy four-year-old lungs and Tom recoiled, blinking.

Christine laughed. 'Serves you right. Kevin, take your cousin to the bathroom to wash up, will you?'

Her grandson gave her a quizzical look that reminded her painfully of the young Connor. At least this little boy had never had to endure the hell she'd put Connor through… but he was just as grave and judicial as she could remember Connor being on occasion.

'She's not _really_ my cousin, Nan. She's only my _pretend_ cousin.'

Now small Imogen's lower lip was starting to wobble. Eager to avoid a tantrum, Christine gave Kevin a sharp jab with a finger and he caught on, taking the younger child's hand.

'But a pretend cousin's still a cousin, isn't it?'

Imogen beamed, nodding enthusiastically, and trotted off with Kevin happily enough while Christine turned her attention to the older girls. They were sitting in a huddle with Izzie, all three talking hard whilst munching through nuts and crisps at an astonishing rate.

She moved to deprive them of their crisps, causing a wave of protests. She held the bowl higher, taking advantage of the fact that they were all on the short side and she towered over them, with or without heels.

'Ah-ah. It's after seven and your dad will be home soon, Tina. What will he have to say about you stuffing yourself with rubbish?'

Her granddaughter's face fell and she subsided with a resentful flash of green eyes. The other young girl was less easily squashed, her lip turning up in the coquettish curve that already had half the lads in Waterloo Road's lower school making fools of themselves.

'That's easy, he'd blame you and Granda for puttin' 'em out in the first place!'

'Carol-Christine Chalk, apologise at once!' Dynasty Chalk sounded genuinely horrified, and Christine turned to face her newly-arrived deputy, her eyebrows raised. All things considered, that had been pretty mild…

The younger woman glanced at her quickly and her lips quivered; Christine knew she was dying to laugh, but there was no trace of it in the glare Dynasty shot her daughter. 'Well?'

Carol-Christine rolled her eyes. 'Mum, it was a _joke_!'

'It was _cheeky_,' Dynasty insisted inflexibly. 'You know better. Apologise to your nan!'

Once again the coquettish quirk came to the fore as Carol-Christine turned to Christine, bright blue eyes studying her from beneath thick lashes. 'You're not _really_ mad, are you?'

'I haven't decided yet,' Christine told her seriously, taking her cue from Dynasty. 'Because this isn't the first time, is it? I've had to give you a stern talking-to a couple of times already this week.'

'That's not fair, that was at _school_,' Carol-Christine pleaded, sounding rather as though she considered school to be an entirely separate universe.

'It matters when you're as cheeky at school as you are at home,' her father remarked, coming up behind his wife. 'Christine, Tom, I think I've just heard Connor and Imogen drive up.'

Everyone cheered and headed for the front door, but Christine grabbed her young namesake's arm before the girl could do likewise. 'Listen, love. I know it's got to feel like we're always getting at you the moment, but you need to learn, CC. You _can't_ behave at school like you do at home, it's not fair to the other kids… and if that means that me and your mum have to crack down on you at home until you do, well, that's just how it has to be.'

'I don't want that,' CC said quickly, sounding scared. 'Please, Nan, I'm dead sorry, I swear.'

_Until next time_, Christine thought ruefully as she gave her adopted granddaughter a quick hug and sent her on her way with a gentle shove. CC was always 'dead sorry'—and she didn't want to trigger another row between Dynasty and her elder daughter. The two were uncannily alike and friction was inevitable. Tonight was Tom's birthday; it was supposed to be happy night, a night for family… God knew she'd be putting enough of a dampener on it herself later.

She turned to stare unseeingly out of the window, her lips thinning as though to hold back the terror that threatened to flood through her every time she stopped to think.

'Chris?' Tom appeared behind her; she could see his reflection in the glass, his hair now faded almost as much as hers. At least he hadn't lost it—

She shut the thought down and made herself smile. 'Connor and Imogen?'

'Yeah, they're bringing their stuff in now.' Tom studied her, his gaze as knowing as it was loving. 'There's something you're not telling me.'

She scoffed. 'When would I get the chance?'

'Later?'

She swallowed hard and nodded, unwilling to meet his eyes. 'Yeah. Later.' Connor's entrance came as a welcome distraction and she leaned forward to brush a quick kiss on Tom's lips before moving to welcome her son and daughter-in-law.

They had become a striking couple. Connor's once-slender height had filled out, and he moved with purpose and and energy. As a boy he'd tended to speak softly, but years in the hurly-burly and racket of a professional kitchen had given his voice resonance and authority, and conversation tended to halt when he spoke. As for Imogen, she was still petite, but her acting training had given her the confidence and poise she'd lacked as a young woman.

'You're looking good, Mum,' Connor greeted now as he pulled back from their embrace. 'Hey, I like the hair.'

'Very distinguished,' Imogen added with a grin as Christine lifted a hand to touch the chignon she'd started to sweep her lengthening hair into. 'Good for keeping the kids on their toes, eh?'

'Who, me? Absolutely not, that's my deputy's job!' Christine nodded towards Dynasty and the younger woman smirked.

'She's better at it than me, that's for sure,' Tom declared as he pressed a glass of Shloer into the younger Mulgrews' hands. 'Bubbly?'

Imogen took a sip of hers. 'Does she go all Scouse on them? That'd be scary, right enough!'

'Oi!' Dynasty objected. 'I'm livin' here longer than you, sunshine!'

'Still Scouse though.' They exchanged a grin and clinked glasses, their friendship going strong even after all the years.

'Right then, what's for dinner?' Kevin asked, clapping a hand on Connor's back. 'We left it to you, mate. Grub's all in, isn't it Tom?' The older man nodded and Kevin clapped Connor's back a second time. 'So what're we waiting on, eh? I'm starving!'

His complaint was echoed by a chorus of agreement from the kids, and Connor laughed. 'Fine, I can take a hint. Where's the food?'

Tom pointed to the fridge.

Connor narrowed his eyes at his stepfather. 'Fresh? None of that frozen crap Mum buys?'

'Language, son, language,' Christine reprimanded jokingly and he rolled his eyes at her. 'Tom did the shopping this time, you can blame him if it's wrong.'

'Poor Tom.' Imogen cast a sparkling glance up at the older man. 'Is this the fruits of retirement?'

Dynasty snorted. 'Fruits of laziness, more like. I had to keep callin' him to ask him where he'd put things when I first took over, and I've lost track of the number of times he answered the phone with "Er, dunno, Dyn, you've woke us up"!'

Warmth stole through Christine as the adults laughed at this sally, banishing the hard lump of cold terror that had settled low in her belly. She'd forget about it for now, she resolved as Connor set everyone some task or other; Imogen, Izzie and Kevin were given interesting things to do whilst Christine found herself supervising Tina and CC as they chopped vegetables. Not that Tom was very much better off; he'd been banished to the living room with the little ones, and Christine's lips curved as she heard Dynasty chivvy the lot of them out. Even now, Dynasty could always make her smile.

Dinner was leisurely affair, well oiled by quality food, quality company, and lots of laughter. Eventually the children began to nod off and Izzie offered to bring them up; predictably, CC and Tina protested.

Connor cut his daughter off. 'We've got a long drive ahead of us in the morning. Say goodnight and go. Give Kevin a hand, he's half asleep!' He had to yell the last words after her as she tossed her dark head and stalked off after a perfunctory round of kisses.

CC lifted her chin and folded her arms, a miniature Dynasty as she'd been when Christine first knew her. '_I_ don't have a long drive tomorrow.'

'_You_ have school,' her mother told her swiftly. 'And then we're going to Gran's. Aunt Kace is back tonight, remember. Of course, if you don't want your presents from America—'

'I'm going, I'm going,' CC said hurriedly, leaving on the word.

'Mercenary little witch,' Kevin observed without heat. 'Can't think where she gets that from.'

'Hey!' Dynasty thumped him. 'You badmouthing me again?'

He looked amused, the incongruous new lines at the corners of his eye bunching. 'If the cap fits—_ouch_! Keep your nails to yourself, woman. Is this any way to behave in front of your boss?'

'A boss who just happens to be practically family?' Tom demanded with a smirk that was definitely on the evil side. 'Poor Dyn, you're well screwed.'

Dynasty huffed and crossed her arms, looking exactly as CC had done not so very long before. Christine couldn't help it; she started to laugh and after a moment everyone joined in.

Quiet fell in the wake of their laughter and Christine's heart began to pound uncomfortably as Tom took her hand.

'Chris?' he prompted. 'Are you gonna tell us?'

She shook her head, her lips pressing as tried to still their trembling.

'Mum?' Connor, sounding concerned. Such an old, _old_ concern…

She gasped.

'Was it the doctor's?' That was Dynasty. 'You had an appointment, didn't you. What did he say?'

Tom's hand tightened on hers, lending her warmth and strength as it had done every day for more than fifteen years, and she found the courage to lift her head and face her family.

'It—it wasn't g-good,' she stammered, squeezing so hard on Tom's fingers that she knew it had to hurt.

The little colour there was in her son's face drained away, leaving him almost corpse-like. 'Mum—'

She lifted a shaky hand to cover her eyes. 'I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry.' Her voice broke.

'Chris.' Tom's voice was rough. 'Love, what did the doctor say? You haven't said—'

'Is it from drinking?' Connor cut in, ahead as always when it came to her.

Christine closed her eyes as she gave a brief nod. 'Yeah.' She tried to draw a breath, and tried again. It hurt, but she had to nerve herself to pronounce this most dreaded word of all. 'It's cancer. Liver cancer.'

Connor rose so abruptly his wooden chair fell back against the island with a crash. A moment later and he was gone, followed closely by his wife.

'What's the prognosis?' Kevin demanded, but Christine was too stricken by Connor's departure to answer; she could only shake her head. 'Never mind,' he continued in a hard tone. 'I'll find out.' He whipped out his tablet and fingers began to fly.

Dynasty left her place to come to take Christine in a warm embrace. 'I'm so sorry to hear this,' she whispered in Christine's ear. 'Just remember, we're family. I'm here for you, at any time. I swear it, Chris.'

The abbreviation—so rarely used by anyone but Tom—was spoken with such love that Christine could not hold back; she wept held by Dynasty on one side and Tom on the other. Finally, they drew apart.

'Well?' Dynasty demanded of her husband as she dashed quickly at her own eyes. 'What's the verdict?'

Kevin's face was grey. 'It's wrong. It's got to be wrong.'

'What d'you mean?'

'It's not wrong,' Christine interjected tiredly. God, she was _tired_; bone tired of pretending that everything was OK when it wasn't. 'I'm going for chemo and they're hoping surgery will be possible, but with my history—' She shrugged and swallowed. 'If—if that doesn't work, a transplant's my only option. You remember Grantly, you know the chances there.' Once again her voice broke. 'I've probably got a year; more with chemo and surgery. I might even get to five if the transplant comes through, but that'll take a miracle.'

Tom put his hands on her face and forced her to look at him. 'A miracle, eh?'

She closed her eyes and nodded, lips once more compressed.

She opened them when he kissed her, hard. 'Tom—'

'No.' He pressed a finger to her lips, his eyes gleaming a very bright blue. 'I won't hear it, Chris. "All from nothing", remember? If a miracle's what it needs a miracle's what we'll bloody get!'

She allowed him to pull her close and rested her head against his shoulder. She was not religious; religion and faith were things she'd abandoned forever after her last disastrous visit to the parents who had disowned her. Yet Tom's fierce insistence lit a small flame of faith within her.

_Believe_, she told herself, repeating one of her son's old mantras. _Mind over matter. Just_ believe.

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><p><em>So? Worth continuing at some point? This is so NOT what I usually do, but once I'd had the idea it wouldn't leave me alone and I thought it was worth floating, if nothing else. <em>


	2. Chapter 2

_**Dedication: Lori and Paisley. Thanks for being such amazing viewers, and the next part will follow, hopefully before Christmas!**_

_**Warning: Cancer, angst, and epic, **_**epic**_** fluff.**_

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><p>CC Chalk hunched in her usual place in her adopted grandmother's classroom, directing a glare towards her as Mrs Mulgrew circulated, leaning over now and then to comment on someone's work.<p>

Her neighbour nudged her and pointed to their shared copy of _Of Mice and Men_.

'C'mon, you gotta give me somethin' here,' he hissed. 'I've spent enough time in the cooler this week, if I get sent again Maggie says I can't have me party.'

'Yeah, right,' CC scoffed. 'D'you really think she meant it? Bet she was just trying to scare you.'

'I don't care, I'm not riskin' it.' Her friend opened the book. 'What's got your goat, I thought you was dead excited about havin' your gran back.'

CC refused to dignify that with an answer, flipping the mass of golden curls she'd inherited from her mother over one shoulder and bending over the chapter they were supposed to be reading. She'd only read a few lines when Christine's voice behind her made her tense.

'Well done. Nice to see you haven't forgotten everything while I was away!' Then she was beside CC. 'Right. So, let's have a look, shall we?'

'We've not started yet,' CC's neighbour said anxiously. 'We're still readin'.'

CC saw her grandmother's eyebrows lift. 'Really. Well, I'll give you another five minutes, OK?'

'Give us as long as you like, I'm not readin' it,' CC muttered under her breath.

Mrs Mulgrew paused. 'I beg your pardon?'

'She's just a bit slow,' she heard Jonny say. 'We'll catch up miss, honest.'

'_Slow_, h'mmm?'

Mrs Mulgrew's gaze was piercing and CC's cheeks went hot as she aimed a vicious kick at Jonny's ankles. What a numpty, of all the idiot things to say. As if Nan'd believe that when she knew better than anyone what a fast reader CC was!

She lifted her chin. _She_ wasn't going to pretend and sneak around. There'd been far too much of that lately.

'I'm not readin' this, it's crap. I don't care if you do throw us in the cooler, it'd be better than _this_!'

The Head's lips thinned. 'I see. Well, I'm sorry I can't oblige on this occasion, Miss Chalk. Wait for me outside, please.'

CC was about to argue—until she caught her grandmother's eye and thought the better of it. Besides, she didn't _really_ want to have this row in front of everyone and the nosy cows had their eyes half hanging out as it was. She pushed back from her desk, deliberately dragging her chair along the floor because she knew how much it annoyed Christine. Then she swung her bag to her shoulder and stalked out, for once failing to show the door's creaking hinges the respect they deserved. As a result, it closed with a deeply satisfying bang.

Almost at once, her resentment died as the suspicion she'd nursed for weeks flowered into near-certainty. There was something wrong with Nan, she'd known it since the day after Grandpa's birthday when she'd caught Mum crying. Her mother had given some stupid excuse, but CC wasn't convinced. Her mum was one of the strongest people she knew, she was more likely to blow her top than she was to weep.

After that she'd kept ears and eyes open and was rewarded a fortnight later when Mum and Dad explained that Grandpa and Nan were going away for a while. CC's protests that Nan _never_ went away during term-time had gone unheeded, but a couple of days later she'd overheard Dad trying to persuade Mum to tell her the truth.

'She's not stupid, Dyn, she's already picked up something's going on. You know how close she is to Christine—'

'And I've told you I don't want her knowing!' Dynasty had hissed. 'She's too young, I won't have her worryin' about it!'

Her dad had closed their bedroom door at that point and CC had heard no more, but it was enough—and when even her little sister noticed the tension in the air CC realised that whatever _it_ was, it was dead serious.

She gulped and turned towards the window, fretfully pulling at a curl. Worry settled deep in her gut and the weight of it was familiar; she'd felt like this nearly four years ago when Imogen came early and their mother nearly died. CC would never forget that time—or the unstinting, unflinching comfort and support she'd received from her adopted grandparents. Her real gran hadn't been able to come until the crisis was over; as usual, Aunt Kace's boxing career had got in the way.

'Going to tell me what that was about?'

She whirled to face Christine. The older woman was standing very tall and straight, her arms folded, and wearing what Imogen called her 'heady face'.

CC took refuge in a teenage strop.

'You weren't at my birthday.'

'And that's a reason to abuse Steinbeck, is it?'

The girl scowled.

'It was my first proper important birthday! You should've _been_ there!'

Christine's expression softened. 'Sweetheart—'

'Don't,' CC choked, turning back to the window. 'Don't you start lyin' to me.'

Her grandmother put a hand on her back. 'Come on, I've never lied to you, you know that.'

She began to rub, a gentle warming motion that CC had known and loved since babyhood. Her breath caught and she twisted to fling herself on Christine, burying her face in the older woman's silky blouse. It was something she'd done a thousand times and Christine's arms wrapped around her as they always did—but not before CC heard a muffled 'ouf' and felt a betraying stiffening.

She backed away, her mouth turning dry. 'What's wrong?'

Her grandmother sighed. 'CC—'

'You just said it, you've never lied to me.' She hated how her voice turned squeaky when she was trying not to cry. 'I hurt you then, didn't I? That's what Mum sounded like the first time I hugged her after Immy was born—'

'Hey! Hey, calm down, love,' Christine soothed, grabbing the girl's shoulders before she took flight. 'Now you listen to me. I don't want to lie to you but I can't tell you anything until I've spoken to your mum, OK?'

'She won't let you! She thinks I'm too much of a kid!'

Christine brushed a stray lock away from CC's face. 'Don't worry, I can handle Dynasty. I wouldn't be much of a boss otherwise, h'mm?'

CC sniffled and nodded, an unwilling smile starting to quirk. 'Promise?'

'I _promise_,' Christine affirmed. 'One way or another, I will get your mum's permission and I will talk to you—today. Deal?'

CC nodded solemnly and her grandmother put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a half-hug. 'So. Ready to go back to class?'

CC glanced up through her lashes. 'Do I _have_ to?'

Christine laughed, the sound warming the cold fearful places in her granddaughter's heart. 'Yes, young lady, you do have to. Now _march_!'

And CC obeyed, feeling happier than she had in weeks.

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><p>Tom peeked around Sonya's office door, a grin spreading across his face. 'Room for a little one?'<p>

'Or a big one in your case,' the secretary joked, coming to give him a hug and a smacker on the cheek. 'What're you doin' here, bored of retirement?'

'Bored? _Bored_? Son, have you _met_ my family?'

'Which one?' she quipped as she turned back to her desk. 'Yours, Christine's, or the ones yous've adopted between you?'

'You make us sound like some kinda sprawling mafia.' He dropped into one of the seats that circled a small coffee table. 'Nah, retirement's where it's at. No paperwork, no council, no boss breathing down me neck—'

'No boss, eh?' Sonya repeated with a wink. 'I'll not tell 'er you said that.'

Tom's grin faded. 'How's she doing?'

'She's keepin' it together, you know Christine. Me an' Dyn tried talkin' her into reducing her teaching timetable, but—' She shrugged and Tom sighed.

'Typical Chris. She's been champing at the bit to get back. I just don't want her overdoing when she's still recoverin' from that op.'

Sonya leaned forward. 'Did they get it all? When they—?'

He rubbed his face. 'We hope. It all depends how badly her liver was damaged when—' His voice broke and he had to clear his throat before continuing. 'They'll do more scans in a couple of months and she might need a round of cancer-blasting drugs.'

'Oh, god. That's chemo, innit?' Sonya's face fell into glum lines. 'Oh, I 'ope it don't come to that. Losin' your 'air an all? Gives me the heebie jeebies, that does.'

'I'd rather have her alive!' Tom snapped. Sonya looked as if he'd slapped her and he blew out a breath. 'Sorry. Been a tough couple of months, didn't mean to take it out on you.'

'Take what out on who?' Christine herself asked, leaning against the door as it closed behind her.

Sonya gave a wide smile that showed all her teeth. 'It were nothing, boss. Just me bein' stupid.'

'H'mm.' The Head's gaze travelled to Tom. 'And what are _you_ doing here, Mr Clarkson?'

He rose. 'Got used to havin' you around all the time. House is too quiet.'

'And there was I thinking you'd be catching up on all that sleep you've been missing,' she said wryly as she moved towards her office.

_She's holding herself too straight_, he thought as he followed. He knew what _that_ meant…

'Thought I'd come for lunch. And to bring you these,' he added, tossing a handful of bubble packs onto her desk. 'You must need 'em by now.'

The lines around his wife's mouth tightened. 'I'm _fine_.'

Tom sighed and sank down onto the old sofa in the corner. After years of abuse the leather was battered and worn, rendering it unrecognisable from the sleek furniture purchased for Michael Byrne nearly two decades before.

'No, you're not—and no-one expects you to be. You've just had a hefty chunk of your liver removed, for God's sake! The only person who thinks you should be back to normal this soon is _you_.'

She sat down carefully. 'Yeah, and I'm handling it, OK? I'm not taking those drugs if I don't need them.'

'What, because you're not in screaming agony?' Tom circled the desk, bracing himself against its edge. 'Come on, love. For me. I know you're in pain, I can see it in the way you move—' Christine's head dipped and he realised that somehow he'd hit a nerve. 'Chris?'

'CC knows,' she said softly. 'Oh, not about the cancer. But she knows there's something wrong. She er, she had a little tantrum in my lesson earlier. I threw her out.'

'And?'

'And… I went to find out what's going on her head. I mean, she's never kicked off like that in school before—'

'With _you_, you mean,' Tom interrupted with a rueful grimace. 'Our CC has a right temper on her—but let's give the kid credit, she's not daft. Knows better than to put the wind up you.'

'While she gave _you_ hell because you've always spoiled her rotten,' Christine returned with a swiftness that made him grin. 'Can't say you weren't warned.'

'Hey, isn't that what grandpas are for? You've got to admit, we do a mean good cop/bad cop turn—'

'As we should, we've had enough practice!' his wife retorted and the look they exchanged momentarily restored the world to rights. 'So. Are you going to get me water for these?' She pointed towards the pile of tablets in front of her and Tom moved with alacrity, eager to get the water before she changed her mind.

He waited patiently as she worked her way through the packets, silently lifting each one and pocketing it as she finished. It was a routine they'd polished in recent weeks; there was no need even to speak.

'They scare me,' Christine said at last, so quietly that he had to strain to hear. 'Because they _work_. They work _fast_, they wipe the pain out—'

All at once Tom understood. 'Like alcohol.' She gave a tiny nod, her eyes shadowed, and he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'And this is why—? I hate to break it to you, love, but you've been torturing yourself for no reason. Those drugs, they're not addictive. I asked.'

'Are you sure?'

'Positive. You're off the really strong stuff.'

He saw her take a deep, shaky breath. 'That's, that's good to know.'

'Come on,' he said, holding out a hand. 'Let's get comfortable. I want to hear about CC.'

'Not much to tell,' she said as they moved to the sofa, still hand-in-hand. 'She wasn't happy we missed her birthday, she seemed pretty upset about it. I tried to calm her down and she threw herself on me as per usual and…' Christine sucked in. 'The pain was sickening for a moment, Tom. I couldn't hide it and she noticed—'

''Course she did,' he said gently, pressing the fingers he still held. 'Like I said, she's not _daft_.'

'I promised I'd tell her more later. She said Dynasty wouldn't be happy and she's right, Dyn's always said that she wanted to shield the kids from it.'

'Dyn's sensible enough to know that's not feasible with Carol-Christine, whatever Imogen's told,' Tom pointed out. 'She is, we just need to remind her of it. It's one thing to keep it from Tina and Kev, but Dynasty's pair? We see too much of them for lies, even well-meant lies.'

Christine's lips thinned. 'Exactly. I've never lied to those kids, I'm not gonna start now. CC's asking questions and she deserves the truth and that's what I'm going to tell Dynasty. She can take it or leave it.'

'Ask CC to come to ours for her tea. Why not? We did miss her birthday, after all.'

'Full of good ideas today, aren't you,' Christine murmured as she tried to suppress a yawn, her head moving to rest on his shoulder. He shifted so that she could settle comfortably, realising that she was more exhausted than she'd ever admit after a full morning in school.

'That's why you married me,' he returned softly. There was no response. Several minutes passed; he counted them by the ticking of the old-fashioned clock on the wall. 'Who'll tell Dyn?'

Again there was no answer.

Tom glanced down and saw that his wife was fast asleep. Once upon a time—only a few months before—he'd have roused her to tease her mercilessly about nodding off, but not now. In fact, he thought as he studied the soundproofing on the ceiling, he might just take a kip himself. If they were having CC for dinner there'd be little in the way of rest for either of them that night.

* * *

><p>Christine roused with a small groan at the sound of a mobile ringing. She'd managed to see the school day out despite strenuous objections from Tom and Sonya, but once home she'd capitulated and headed bedwards.<p>

She turned over to see Tom give an apologetic grimace as he mouthed, 'Dynasty.'

'Ah.' She waited until he hung up. 'So?'

'She's on her way with CC now, says she'll be with us in twenty or so.'

'Good.' Christine rubbed her eyes and tried to push up into a sitting position, wincing when the movement pulled on the slowly healing shark-like wound in her abdomen.

'Will you stop trying to do everything yourself?' Tom scolded as he beat her pillows into submission. 'You still need to take it easy. The doctor said it could be months before you're fully recovered.'

Christine's lips tightened. She didn't want to hurt him by screaming her fears that all this resting was wasting precious hours that she might not have.

'Thanks,' she said shortly instead, leaning back against the newly plumped pillows. 'What about dinner?'

Her husband smirked. 'Sorted. Bol's in the slow cooker, just the spag to do.'

'Garlic bread? CC loves the stuff.'

'Ready to go, I've even changed the linen in the girls' room.'

Christine's eyebrows went up. 'You really _have_ thought of everything!'

'Yup. All we need to do is get up and get down there—' He broke off as they heard the front door slam. 'Bugger. Too late.'

'Nan! Grandpa! Where are you?'

'Sorry,' Tom mouthed before yelling, 'Up here, love!'

Christine set her teeth and prepared to rise but Tom's hand closed over her wrist, holding her in place.

'We were gonna tell her anyway,' he reminded her gently. 'Better get it over with, eh?'

She swallowed and nodded without words, forcing herself to relax. Tension tightened the muscles and worsened the pain, she'd found.

'What're you doin' in here?' CC demanded as she entered. 'It's only half six!'

'We're worn out after a day of you lot,' her adopted grandfather retorted. 'Have to recharge an' all.'

CC grinned. 'That's why I never wanna get old, must be dead boring—' She paused, the grin morphing into big-eyed pleading. 'Can I come in?'

Christine smiled. ''Course you can. Make the most of it, eh?'

'_Without_ crawling all over us,' Tom added quickly, and Christine shot him a look.

'S'if I'd be that clumsy,' CC scoffed, wriggling into the space they'd created between them. She sighed. 'This is nice. Why did we stop doing this?'

'You grew up, sweetheart.' Christine lifted her arm and allowed the girl to snuggle close.

'Nan?' CC's voice had gone very soft, her fingers picking at the grey wool of her grandmother's cardigan. 'What did you mean, make the most of it?'

'Just if you get any bigger there'll be no room in the bed—_oi_!' Tom objected. 'My bed, my rules, Carol-Christine, so keep your fingers to yourself. You're not too big to get dumped on the floor, my lass.'

CC did not smile. Despite the nip she'd given Tom her attention remained on Christine. '_Nan_. Are you sick?'

Christine pressed her lips together. She'd wanted to have this conversation but now that the moment was at hand…

She stroked a curly lock. 'What makes you ask that?'

'Them tablets on your table, there's loads. And—'

Christine felt a momentary pressure on the tightly bound dressing about her middle and managed to bite off a cry of protest.

CC sat up, suddenly looking much older than her barely thirteen years. 'I knew it, you've had an operation,' she accused. 'An' you never told us. Why?'

'We didn't want to worry you,' Tom said.

Their granddaughter's eyes went glassily huge. '_Worry_? Grandpa, I knew somethin' was up. Mum's been dead upset, her and Dad have been arguin' and we never saw you and I didn't know _why_ and then Nan wasn't in school for weeks and weeks and weeks and she's _never_ off in term-time—' She sniffled and stopped to wipe at her cheeks with a frustrated motion that reminded Christine of Dynasty. 'Is it serious? Are you gonna die?'

'No!' That was Tom, reacting instinctively. Christine glared at him above the girl's head. She had said she would not lie.

'Not for a long time, I hope,' she told CC softly.

Her granddaughter crumpled and Christine took her hand and squeezed until the girl glanced up, blue eyes swimming.

'Listen to me, CC. Listen, OK? Everyone dies, it's a fact of life. Me. Your grandpa. Even you, kiddo. Now. I've been diagnosed with cancer and I'm not gonna pretend to you that everything's going to be fine, because I don't know that. No-one does. What I will _absolutely_ promise is that I'm not gonna give in. I'm going to fight this thing, whatever it takes—'

'That's what Jonny's mum said,' CC said, her tones muffled by Christine's cardigan. 'He told me, he said she _swore_ to him she was gonna fight, she wasn't gonna leave him, and—and…'

Christine's breath caught and her arm tightened around CC's shoulders. How could she have forgotten that? Jonny's mum had worked at Waterloo Road as a cleaner for years and she'd been universally feared for her sharp tongue. When the news of her diagnosis broke everyone was confident she was tough enough to beat the cancer, that even that most virulent of invaders would fall before the woman's dogmatic strength. Three months later she was dead, leaving a stunned and traumatised son with no other family and nowhere to go—except Waterloo Road's boarding house.

'It's—it's not the same,' Tom said, his own voice cracking. 'Jonny's mum, she had a rare type of cancer. She was already far gone when they diagnosed her, no matter what she told Jonny, she knew from day one she wasn't gonna make it. Your nan and me, we tried to get her to tell him the truth… but she wouldn't. She _couldn't_. Jonny worked it out for himself, didn't he?'

CC had turned towards him. 'Yeah. He… he were proper _ragin_' over it, but broken up too.'

'I wouldn't let that happen to you,' Christine told her. 'I know we haven't been straight with you about this op, but…' She sighed. 'We needed to get our own heads around it first. The important thing is, it's _not the same_. You know I'm a recovered alcoholic, CC. You've always known it, we've never hidden it. I knew this was a possibility. So… when I started noticing that things weren't quite right, I didn't sit on it, I did something about it. I've had this op and who knows, maybe that'll have sorted it and—and all this, we'll be able to forget about it, yeah, and—'

'Are you scared, Nan?'

Christine had to cover her mouth at that, as if to catch the sob that burst from her of its own volition. Once again her gaze met her husband's above CC's head. His jaw was very square, his lips a twisted line, and she could read her own emotions there.

'Yeah.' She pulled CC closer. 'Yeah, I'm scared.' She closed her eyes; 'scared' was an understatement of titanic proportions—but there was no way she was going to put _that_ into words for a child of thirteen.

Their adopted granddaughter surprised them. She sat up straight, dislodging Christine's arm and pulling her knees to her chest.

'Right. This is what we're gonna do,' she began, sounding eerily like Dynasty Chalk. 'We're gonna have the hugest, biggest, totally epic family Christmas _ever_.' She shivered and drew her knees closer; Tom tucked the duvet cover around her legs. 'Can we? Can we do that?'

_Just in case it's the last one… _

CC did not say the words; she didn't need to. Christine heard them loud and clear and her throat tightened, strangled by an uneasy mingling of pride and terror. Unable to speak, she nodded, her eyes finding Tom's.

He reached for her hand, his gaze concerned. 'Will you be up for it? Christmas is only three weeks away.'

She expelled a slow breath, determined to regain control. 'I think… I think it sounds like a great plan, bring it on!' CC's smile was luminous and Christine grabbed her arm, alarm prickling through her. 'But I don't want this to cast a shadow, OK? Tina and Kev don't know, I'm sure Imogen doesn't know. Mika Charles is coming to stay, we asked Izzie and her mum and dad to stay quiet until we go down in the new year. CC, I need you be grown-up about this. _Can_ you go through Christmas knowing without telling the other kids?'

The girl gulped. 'Yeah.'

'And you can come and talk to us at any time,' Tom added. 'We'd've preferred not to lay this on you, but… you're too clever for us, kiddo.'

CC was shaking. Christine could feel it, a small shudder that rippled through the mattress. Clearly a distraction was called for.

'OK, teatime. Let's go down and see if Grandpa's managed to not burn the spag bol this time, eh?'

'It's impossible to burn anything in the slow cooker,' Tom pointed out as he slid off the bed. 'Why d'you think your darling son got us it?'

CC's face split in the monkey grin that reminded Christine of a young Kevin. 'He told me it was 'cause the pair of yous are a health'n'safety hazard.'

'Oh, _did_ he?' Christine watched CC roll off the bed with a nimble grace she found herself envying. 'I'll be giving that boy a stern talking-to the next time he's up!'

'And me,' Tom added.

CC smirked. She turned at the door when her grandparents stayed where they were. 'Aren't you comin'?'

'We'll follow you in a sec,' Tom said, much to Christine's relief. 'There's garlic bread in the fridge, why don't you put it in? Since we're such health and safety risks?'

That monkey grin spread across CC's face once again and she was gone. Christine waited until the rhythmic thump on the stairs had ceased before she spoke.

'Thanks for that, I didn't want her to see—'

'I guessed.' Tom studied her. 'Take your time, there's no rush.' He grinned. 'The garlic bread's at the back of the fridge, she'll have a job finding it.'

Christine began to laugh and regretted it. '_Ouuuch_… You're an evil man, Tom Clarkson.' Carefully, she pushed up from the pillow and swung her feet to the floor, her lips pressing thin against the momentary increase of pain. She'd need more pills soon. Still moving cautiously, she stood, ignoring Tom's extended hand until she was safely upright.

'Christine, one, cancer, nil,' Tom muttered in her ear and she hid a smile. It faded as they reached the landing and her fingers tightened on his.

'Are we doing the right thing? Telling her?'

'I hope so. It's a lot to put on a kid her age, but we'd no choice. Let's just … try and enjoy Christmas and keep our fingers crossed. All we can do.'

'H'mmm.' She squeezed his hand again. 'Let's get that bite to eat. I've just realised I'm actually hungry.'

Tom's delighted beam was the best thing she'd seen all day.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I hope that wasn't too sugary! As ever, comments of all and any kind are welcome—all the more so for this as only one more part is absolutely guaranteed. Beyond that…. Well, if you want more all you have to do is tell me so!<strong>_


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